


Playing With Fire

by writeonclara



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ableist Language, Action, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hunk is a good bro, Injured Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith is such crap at romance (but he's trying), Lance has a space blog, M/M, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pidge has no time for this crap, Romance, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeonclara/pseuds/writeonclara
Summary: Log #17: keith kogane is a dumbasstraining is not dating jfcOr: Keith asks Lance out for all the wrong reasons. Lance goes along with it because what the hell, why not.Except Keith is sort of crap at this whole dating thing. No one is surprised.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set some time after s1ep8, before the castle gets corrupted.

**Log #1: space cats**

ok so giant space cats are a thing and mine is the BEST

 

**Log #2: hoLY CRAP SPACE PRINCESSES**

i'm in l o v e

 

**Log #3: space cat tricks**

taught blue how to play dead when i finger-shot her. thought keith was going to PISS himself when my giant blue space cat flopped over on her back lolol

 

**Log #4: no subject**

ok so apparently we're supposed to be using these logs (blogs?) to track our training and field experience and not about our giant robot space cats, which is like a huge waste imo. 

so yeah we fought some galra today. blue was awesome.

 

**Log #5: trained in the simulator**

 

**Log #6: no subject**

extraño a mi familia. extraño a mi mamá y mi papá. extraño a mi hermana y mi hermano y mi abuela y mi pero y 

 

lo siento mamá

 

**Log #7: fought a gIANT SPACE MONSTER WHAT THE FUCK**

 

**Log #8: trained in the simulator again**

 

**Log #9: fought more galra**

btw im a total badass. woke up from a coma to save keith's weak ass

 

**Log #10: more galra**

 

**Log #11: no subject**

i met a total space babe today. she seemed totally into me! but then she handcuffed me to a tree and

i almost lost blue

* * *

Lance blinked slowly, not sure he’d heard right. He turned to Hunk, but he looked just as shellshocked as Lance felt. His bro just shrugged helplessly at him, both hands out. So—he _had_ heard right. He turned back to Keith. Cleared his throat. “Did you just—ask me out on a date?”

“I'm doing it for the good of Voltron,” Keith said, nodding once, as if he were agreeing with himself.

“What—you’re _what_ , you're—you want to date me for the _good of Voltron?_ ” Lance yelled (well, more like yelped). He couldn't _believe_ what he was hearing. What does that even mean?

“Yes,” said Keith, earnestly. “If it means you keep it in your pants whenever we touch down on an alien planet because you're already getting it here”—he made a gesture vaguely towards his own crotch area and Lance choked on his own spit because _what the actual fuck_ —”then yes, it's for the good of Voltron.” 

“Oh well don't sacrifice yourself or anything,” Lance bit out, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Dude,” Hunk said, disapproving. “Not buddies.”

Keith just watched Lance expectantly.

If Lance was completely honest with himself (and he tried very, very hard not to be) this wasn’t exactly how he pictured his first relationship would go. His mamá had told him that she knew his papá was the man for her when he gave up his seat on a plane so that she could have the window. She told him, with that wide grin of hers, that they'd spent the entire six hours laughing and chatting and annoying the other passengers around them, and even though his mamá had anxiety when in the air, she had never wanted that flight to end.

Lance had grown up thinking, yeah, that’s how love works. He hadn't expected to be _insulted_ into a date.

Well, at least he got the flying aircraft part right.

Lance slanted a look at Keith. Honestly, he didn't look like he cared one way or another how Lance answered. He was resting one hand on his hip, his face a mask of cool disinterest.

Well, what the hell.

“Fine,” Lance said, calmly.

“ _What_?” Hunk spluttered.

Keith’s eyes were comically wide, the whites showing all the way around, like he hadn't actually expected Lance to agree to it—which, what the hell, it was _his_ idea.

“Wait, r-really?” Keith said, all the confidence gone in the wash of red across his cheeks.

Lance narrowed his eyes. “If this is your idea of some screwed up prank—”

“Like dating you for _the sake of Voltron_ is any better?” Hunk demanded, voice still high with outrage.

“It's not a prank,” Keith said, then shot a really ugly look at Hunk.

“Lance.” Hunk grabbed his arm, tugging on it gently. “I know you've batted all of a negative zero with chicks—”

“That is not a number,” Keith protested.

“—but this is super ridiculous, and you can totally do better than someone wanting to date you to _take one for the team_.”

The thing was, and Lance would never admit this out loud, but he wasn't entirely sure he _could_. Maybe if they were still back on Earth. He could have probably managed to convince a girl (or guy) to date him. But space was vast, and empty, and it wasn't like they ever stayed in one place for a long enough time for him to have any lasting sort of relationship. And then there was that ever present possibility that he might die at any moment, and to be honest he preferred not to cop it as a virgin.

“Yeah, probably,” Lance said, because even though his self-esteem had issues, he wasn't about to let Keith off without a few zingers of his own.

“You totally could not,” Keith shot back.

Lance let his eyes travel slowly down Keith's form. He wasn't blind; Keith was _stacked_ , and topped off with an incredible face, but he still said, “I totally could. BUT, I'm willing to be humored. Date me, mullet.”

* * *

**Log #16 - i know i shouldn't be writing this ******

i know this is supposed to be my log for training but so like

i have a boyfriend? i guess? or at least a date? keith just like walked up to me and was like oh jsyk we’re dating now and i was like ok cool. 

so like here’s the thing. no one knows this but i've never actually had a boyfriend before? or girlfriend. or anything. but i'm pretty sure this barely even counts. i’m pretty sure keith doesn't actually give two shits about me. i'm pretty sure--no, im totally sure since he told me point blank--he just asked me out bc he got some bizarre idea in his head that he needs to protect the team from my lusty ways so that i don't put voltron in danger again like i did with nyma. 

so basically this is worse than a pity date.

i still want it though. god im so fucking pathetic

* * *

“Where are you taking me?” Lance asked, folding his arms behind his head. They were heading down the familiar halls of the castle, metal boots clicking against the hard floor.

Keith had woken him up this morning with insistent, “Suit up. We’re going on a date.” It just figured their first date would be something dangerous.

“Training,” Keith said, matter of factly.

Lance stopped. Keith kept walking a few steps before he realized Lance was no longer following him and turned to him, both eyebrows raised.

“Wait a minute.” It was possible he totally misread the situation. He rubbed the back of his head, his chest tightening with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. Maybe this _wasn't_ supposed to be their first date. He’d been pretty out of it when Keith barged into his room at ass o’clock in the morning. “Is this supposed to be our—our date?”

“Yes?” Keith said, somehow managing to sound both disdainful and confused.

Lance screwed up his face in irritation. “Keith, what the fuck!”

“What!” Keith demanded, throwing both his hands up in the air.

“That is like, _the_ worst first date ever.”

Keith dropped both his arms to cross them defensively over his chest. “I asked the princess. She suggested doing something we’re both interested in, like training.”

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. As much as he'd give anything to have been a fly on the wall for _that_ conversation, this was absolutely unacceptable. He couldn't even bring himself to be surprised. What did he expect? This was _Keith_. “Of course she did, because she's a sadistic space princess who thinks we should spend every minute not sleeping training.”

Keith swung out both his hands in an expressive, ‘well, then, what?’

“To be clear, this is most definitely not our first date.” Lance pointed an accusing finger at Keith, which just seemed to irritate him more. “Our first date will be tomorrow at 1800 hours. Meet me in observation deck 2.”

Keith looked like he was questioning all his life decisions up until this point, and for a moment Lance was certain he was going to call the whole thing off. The thought made his stomach swoop with—disappointment? Relief?

“Okay, fine,” Keith said, and Lance let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Keith shifted from foot to foot, looking down at his armored legs. “Does this mean we're not training?”

He actually sounded a little disappointed, the giant freak. Lance rolled his eyes. “Well, you already dragged me out of bed. We can still train, just as long as you understand this is _not_ our first date.”

* * *

**Log #17: keith is a dumbass**

training is not dating jfc

* * *

Pidge was staring at him.

Lance slowly shoveled some of the green goop into his mouth, watching Pidge suspiciously. For all that they’d known each other at the garrison, they’d never actually bonded. Pidge was a barely contained ball of rage that didn't do well with hyperactive teenage boys. It sort of bothered him, but he knew when he wasn't liked, and he didn't push it. It was actually kind of nice, not needing to be ‘on’ when he was around her.

“Not that I give a crap about interpersonal relationships, but you're being an idiot,” Pidge said.

“Excuse you,” Lance said, pointing his spoon at her. He was used to being called an idiot, but it was usually after he said or did something, not while he was quietly eating his nutritional green goop—that was actually probably ten thousand years old now that he thought about it, _ugh_. “The hell brought that on?”

“Your last two logs,” Pidge said.

Lance dropped his spoon. It landed on his plate, smattering goop across the table. “You—you _read those_?” he squeaked, outraged.

“Of course I do,” Pidge said. “I'm still trying to figure out how you got Blue to play dead,” she added, sounding grudgingly impressed.

Lance covered his face with one hand, mortified. “I thought those were personal.”

“They are.”

“Personal means you _don't get to read them, Pidge._ ”

Pudge shrugged unapologetically. “I'm just telling you you're being dumb.”

“ _I’m_ being dumb?” Lance demanded, outraged. “Keith's the one who asked me out on a date for the sake of _Voltron_.”

“Of _course_ he did, because he's also being dumb,” Pidge said, scathingly, like he was missing something monumental. He glared back at her and she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Do you honestly think—" She cut herself off with a disgusted noise. "Boys are so dumb.”

“Not disagreeing with that,” Lance muttered, into his probably-ten-thousand-year-old goop.


	2. Chapter 2

**Log #19: no subject**

pidge you better not still be reading this

 

**Log #20: no subject**

I am.

 

**Log #21: no subject**

PIDGE DONT HACK INTO MY LOG WTF

* * *

“I can't believe you're just—going to date him,” Hunk said, slowly stirring something goopy in a yellow bowl. “Just so you know, I'm totally against this relationship, and I'm only helping you because you're my friend and you asked me to.”

“I know, I know,” Lance said. He was slumped over the counter, “helping” Hunk with making food for his date with Keith. “I know it's dumb, but—I don't know.”

It wasn’t like he could tell Hunk, ‘Not like I can do any better.’ For one thing, it was just way too pitiful to say out loud, and if he couldn't be honest with himself, he definitely couldn't be honest with anyone else, especially not his overprotective bff. For another, Hunk would _definitely_ try to find a way to sabotage the date if he ever found out what a mess Lance truly was.

“I found some extra strength spices,” Hunk said, pulling out a jar from under the counter that was black and _glowing_. “I can add it to his meal.”

Lance snorted, lifting his head. He opened the jar, curious in spite of himself. It even _smelled_ spicy. “Woof. I think Allura would be pissed if you killed the red paladin.”

“It wouldn't kill him,” Hunk said, but even he didn't sound totally convinced. “Much.”

Lance puffed out a small laugh, dragging himself up from the counter. He held his hand out for the yellow bowl. “Give me that.”

Hunk squinted at him, decided that Lance probably was capable of stirring without screwing something up, then handed over the bowl. “Hey man, answer me seriously. Why did you agree to date him? I mean, even _you_ have better pick up lines than he does.”

“I resent that. My pick up lines are brilliant,” Lance huffed. He slowly drew the wooden spoon through the goop, drawing a star on the sticky surface. “Anyway, it's just a date. If it totally sucks, no harm no foul, right? We can just pretend like it never happened.”

“If you say so,” Hunk said, dubiously.

“In the meantime, I'm going to show him what a _real_ first date looks like.” Lance pointed the spoon at Hunk triumphantly. “I'm going to date the pants off him.”

Hunk’s face twisted with disgust. “Gross, I don't need to know about your sex life.”

Lance flung the spoon at his head.

* * *

**Log #22: what am i even doing**

so. time for my first date. with keith.

this is such a tERRIBLE IDEA

* * *

Twenty minutes before 1800, Lance made his way towards the lift that would take him to Observation Deck 2, whistling quietly in an attempt to get rid of some of his nerves.

It was stupid to be nervous. Not like this was actually a _real_ date. Keith had just gotten some fucked up idea in his mind and Lance was dumb enough to go along with it because—because what, he was _lonely_? He scuffed his foot against the floor, irritation bubbling in his chest.

Well—well, he'd show Keith. He was going to knock his socks off with the best first date _ever_ and prove to him once and for all that dating Lance McClain just for the sake of Voltron was monumentally _stupid_ because Lance was an awesome catch. And then maybe he'd dump the mullet for being such an asshole. Yeah.

Buoyed by this new plan, he practically skipped by an open door, then paused and backtracked, one eyebrow raised. Shiro and Allura were sitting across each other, two glasses of that heinous purple stuff on the table, looking at him with twin expressions of sheepish guilt. Well actually, Allura looked kind of irritated, like Lance was interrupting something.

“What kind of hanky panky are you two up to right now?” Lance asked, pointing an accusing finger at them.

“Hanky pan—Lance, _no_!” Shiro yelped, face going this totally brilliant shade of red. He covered his eyes with one hand, as if not seeing Lance would make him disappear. Yeah, good luck with that buddy.

“What's this ‘hanky panky’ you speak of?” Allura asked.

“Oh, you know,” Lance said, shifting the basket to rest on the crook of his elbow to make a highly inappropriate gesture. Shiro actually _vaulted_ over his chair to grab at Lance. Lance danced out of the way, swinging the basket up, careful not to spill any of the contents. “Woah woah woah! Watch the goods!”

Allura shot him an unimpressed look. “I assume you were about to be vulgar, in which case, do not. Shiro and I were certainly not engaging in ‘hanky panky.’” The faint glow of pink across her cheeks told Lance she definitely _wanted_ to, though. He grinned slyly at her and she glared back, caught. Then she smirked. “Speaking of ‘hanky panky,’ where are you off to right now?”

“Princess!” Shiro sounded absolutely betrayed, like his dear, sweet, ten thousand year old princess had never have an impure thought in her life and was being slowly corrupted by uncouth teenage boys. Lance knew better. Like knew like and all that, even if she tried to hide it with the whole ‘oooh, we must save the universe and everyone in it!’ shtick.

Lance sniffed. “I'm off on a _proper_ date, if you must know. One that _doesn't_ involve training, thank you for that, Princess.”

Shiro’s face twisted up, like he wanted to give the Concerned Dad talk, but was torn between ‘treat my son right’ or ‘be careful with bad boys, my son.’ It was stupidly endearing.

“And then I'm going to dump his sorry ass for being a gigantic space prick,” Lance informed her.

“Lance, no,” Shiro said, sliding one hand down his face. “Just—give him a chance, will you? Keith is _really_ bad at this kind of stuff.”

“Obviously,” Lance huffed, but dropped his eyes when Shiro shot him that fucking wounded puppy expression. Okay, Keith was Shiro’s favorite. Everyone knew that. No need to rub it in his face. But Lance had feelings too, and he wasn't just going to just let Keith stomp all over them with his messed up sense of duty.

“Shiro is right, Lance,” Allura said, earnestly. “We all know Keith has a harder time with social interactions, but he's trying. Really.”

Of course they would side with the golden child. Lance felt his mouth twitch into a pout. He ducked his head, irritated at them and at himself. “Yeah, sure. Anyway, if you guys weren't canoodling—”

“What are you, eighty?” Shiro muttered. His cheeks were still a little red, how adorable.

“—were you discussing anything important?”

Shiro and Allura glanced at each other, then back at Lance. “We’re not sure yet,” Allura said, rubbing under her lip with her fingertips. “The ship picked up some Galra readings in a nearby solar system.” She grinned at him, slightly wicked. “No need to worry yet, we won't interrupt your date.”

Lance grinned back, equally wicked. “Thanks, I'll stop interrupting yours.”

“Thank you,” Allura said, just as Shiro said, long suffering, “La—” He cut off, gaping at Allura with comically huge eyes.

Lance shot Allura a discreet thumbs up, because he was a good bro, and stepped back out of the room, pressing the panel to shut the door after him. Before the door swished shut, Lance heard Shiro say, “A-Allura,” with a painfully hopeful note to his voice. Cute.

* * *

**Log #22: no subject**

not nervous not nervous nope not nervous

 

**Log #23: no subject**

Bullshit.

 

**Log #24: no subject**

PIDGE STOP HACKING MY SHIT

 

**Log #25: no subject**

Never (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

* * *

Lance was ten minutes early, but Keith was already there, standing in the middle of the deck, slowly looking around the room with slightly widened eyes. Around him was a burst of brilliantly colorful plants: glowing blue fruits dripping from fluffy pink trees, feathery red ferns that shivered a little when Keith got too close, bell-like flowers that tinkled periodically. Through the dome that surrounded the observation deck, the galaxy’s spiral arm sprawled across the midnight-dark sky like a purple bruise.

“Hunk and I found this place a couple days ago. The Alteans have a pretty complex hydroponics system that can handle entire forests,” Lance said, strolling in after Keith. He smiled suavely, but knew it didn't quite meet his eyes. The self-pity had been replaced with an low burning desire to prove himself. At least the anger helped his treacherous heart from neared out of his chest at the sight of Keith surrounded by the brilliant sky. “Pretty cool, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, and the thing was, he did sound a little awestruck.

“We set up a vegetable garden over here,” Lance said, passing Keith to lead him towards the small clearing they’d left between the planters. Little green and purple buds were sprouting out of the pipes. He pulled the soft blue blanket out from his basket and spread it out between the planters, then plopped down, setting the basket beside him. He tilted his head back to look up at Keith

Keith was staring down him, eyes huge and red spilling across his cheeks.

Lance been so prepared to prove himself worthy to date, but now that Keith was looking at him like it was actually working, Lance had to ruin it all by blurting, “What are you staring at, asshole?”

Keith snorted and lowered himself onto the blanket across from Lance. “Your dumb face,” Keith shot back.

“Oh that’s rich, coming from you,” Lance snapped. But Keith’s cheeks were still a little pink, and the blue fruits were glowing faintly behind him, and Lance couldn't find it within himself to be that angry.

“What's in the basket?” Keith asked, leaning forward to peer at it.

“Right, right,” Lance said. “Let a pro show you how a _real_ date is done.”

He pulled out the wrapped dishes from the basket and spread it out across the blanket. “Homemade lunch by yours truly—with a little help from my sous chef, Hunk.” He pulled out a small bottle filled with glowing blue liquid next. “Some juice from those glowing fruits of over there—looks weird, but tastes delicious, I promise.” Finally, he pulled out a small device from the bottom of the basket. “And some mood music—which I haven’t actually heard and is Altean, so no promises.”

Keith was staring at him again, and, wow, Lance didn't realize Keith could get that red. It made his own cheeks heat up in sympathy and his heart jump a little.

Okay, so for a first date, it might kind of be over the top. But to be fair, ‘over the top’ was probably what ‘McClain’ translated to. Besides, Lance was proving a _point_.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Lance demanded.

“Nothing!” Keith said, dropping his eyes to his hands. He clenched and unclenched them on his knees. “You're just—surprisingly not as terrible at this as you would lead everyone to believe.”

“Hey!”

Keith grimaced and slid his hand down his face. “That was supposed to be a compliment. Shiro told me I should compliment you.”

“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but you _suck_ at giving compliments.”

“I know,” Keith groaned into his hands.

Lance huffed, pulling out two plates from the basket. “I'll have you know, I'm a _great_ boyfriend. I just—” Haven’t really had anyone to be a boyfriend to, he didn’t say. Sure, he’d hooked up with a couple of girls, and even one guy, but so far no one had been able to handle Lance at full force.

“Come off a little strong?” Keith supplied, taking the plate from Lance.

“We’ll go with that,” Lance said, pulling off the covers from the dishes.

The date was pretty freakin’ awesome, if Lance did say so himself. Sure, it was a little quiet and a little awkward, but Keith was a quiet, awkward dude. But the food was delicious and the view was awe inspiring, and the Altean music was a soft, twangy accompaniment in the background. Oh yes, Lance was definitely a pro.

The only snag they hit was when they were sharing a sweet, nutty pancake for dessert. Keith just _had_ to nearly ruin it all by opening his big dumb mouth and asking, “Why did you agree to go out with me?”

Lance nearly shot back, ‘Why did you ask me?’ But he already knew why Keith asked him, and he really didn't want to get into it again. He took a moment to consider his answer.

In truth, he wasn't entirely sure why he’d agreed to the date so readily. He really should have shot Keith down, and then maybe kick him for being such a shit, and it wasn't _just_ because he was lonely. At the very least, he could have turned to Palmela Handerson for the time being.

But he couldn't think of any response that wouldn't out him as totally pathetic, so instead he said, “You asked me.”

For some reason, this didn't seem like the answer Keith wanted to hear. Well, that was just too bad. He should have thought of that before he asked Lance out for _the sake of Voltron_. Annoyed again, Lance flopped down on the blanket, folding his arms behind his head.

“Hey, look,” Keith said, pointing up. Lance followed his finger to a black hole swirling open. So Allura and Shiro had decided to check out the Galra readings after all.

The brilliant sky smeared away as they entered the wormhole. Bright purples and pinks danced across the garden, the floor, Keith’s face.

“Hey,” Keith said, his voice almost reverent. He looked back down, eyes meeting Lance’s, and for some reason he looked so stupidly hopeful and just a little vulnerable. Something funny happened in Lance’s chest. “Want to do this again?”

This was it. This was the perfect opportunity to show Keith what he _could_ have, and then to snatch it all away again. He would successfully prove to Keith that he was good enough to date not _just_ for the sake of Voltron.

He opened his mouth, preparing to deliver the scathing rejection that was right at the tip of his tongue, and said, “Yeah, cool. Let’s do it, mullet.”

* * *

**Log #26: no subject**

i am such an idiot

 

**Log #27: no subject**

Yeeeeeep.

 

**Log #28: no subject**

damn you pidge


	3. Chapter 3

“Although the Galran energy we picked up was technically near the swap on the nearby gas giant’s moon, it would be considered a huge insult not to present ourselves at the Elosian court first," Allura explained, resting her hands on the navigational domes. They were in the control room, dressed for battle—except apparently, they were going to a party. "The Elosians are a very formal race."

“Are you sure you want _us_ in some fancy party?” Pidge asked, resting her chin on her hand.

“It would also be considered an insult if all the paladins didn't appear,” Coran said.

“I’m just saying, we’re not exactly ‘high class.’”

“Speak for yourself, pleb,” Lance said, folding his hands behind his head. “This is going to be _great_. We get to visit an actual court with all the dignitaries. I bet we're going to meet so many hot alien—” He faltered, the side of his face prickling. Across the room, Keith was watching him, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his hand half hiding a knowing smirk. Lance narrowed his eyes. Oh hell no. He did _not_ get to look like Lance was proving his point. “—Keiths.”

“Hot alien Keiths?” Hunk repeated.

“The hottest,” Lance said.

Keith snorted and looked away, but Lance totally caught a glimpse of a grin. Score one for the blue paladin.

“So does that mean we need to dress up?” Pidge asked, face screwing up in absolute disgust.

“The paladins have formal uniforms specifically for occasions like these,” Coran said, pinching the end of his mustache. It made him look a little devious.

Lance squinted distrustfully at Coran. “You aren't going to dress us in pink leotards, are you?”

Coran's face lit up. “That's a wonderful idea!” 

The other paladins turned to glare murder at Lance.

* * *

**Log #29: no subject**

If I end up in a pink leotard, I WILL kill you dead, McClain.

 

**Log #30: no subject**

didnt u get all butthurt when hunk was going thru ur stuff

 

**Log #31: no subject**

That was _expensive_ stuff. Besides, do you really care?

 

**Log #32: no subject**

not really. i guess it's sort of like texting

 

**Log #33: no subject**

I miss Earth.

 

**Log #34: no subject**

me too

* * *

They did not end up in pink leotards, thank God.

Elos was _breathtaking_. The sky was more of a cyan color than an Earth blue and Elos’ brilliant white sun made the spiraling towers of the Elosian castle glitter like a sunset over a calm ocean. The few trees around the Elosian castle had shimmery white trunks and deep green leaves, and soared over them like spindly towers.

Except it was _waaay_ too hot and humid for the heavy blue cape Coran draped over Lance’s skin tight, white and blue dress uniform.

“I'm dying,” Pidge groaned, tugging at her collar.

Hunk fanned himself with his hand. “It's as hot as Hawaii.”

“Didn't you live in Hawaii?” Shiro asked. There was a faint flush to his cheeks from the heat, but he was clearly making a point by not complaining.

“We didn't dress like _this_ in Hawaii. I spent the first sixteen years of my life in flip flops, for crying out loud!”

"Me too, bro," Lance said, bumping their fists together.

Keith strolled out of the palace a moment later, deep red cloak swirling out behind him, sword held loosely in one hand. Unlike Lance, who felt like a kid playing dress up, Keith was like some sort of ancient warrior.

“Your drooling,” Hunk stage whispered, nudging Lance’s side with his elbow.

“I am not,” Lance yelped, lunging up to grab the laughing Hunk into a headlock.

“Children, please,” Pidge said, strolling past them with her pointy chin tilted up, looking like a regal fourth grader. Hunk swatted at her and Pidge danced out of the way, ruining her air of superiority by sticking her tongue out at them both.

“Well,” Allura said, taking a deep breath. They’d had diplomatic meetings with the Arusians in the past, but this was a completely different ballpark from little dudes who wanted to perform ritual sacrifices or apologize through interpretive dance. “Here goes nothing.”

Allura didn't have to worry. As formal as the Elosians were, Allura easily won them over with her brilliant smile and her earnest entreaties. It helped that the Elosians were obviously fascinated by the humans, flocking around Shiro and tittering to each other when he blushed.

After the formal introductions, the night progressed into a lively ball. Of course the Elosians were like, _desperately_ hot. They were at least half a metre taller than humans, with shimmery gold skin and iridescent wings folded neatly on their backs, like a mix between angels and fairies. They even _smelled_ good, like when his mamá melted sugar for flan.

Lance slumped against the balcony he'd retreated to, pouting at the figures twirling below him in the ballroom. He immediately spotted Shiro and Allura, swaying awkwardly in the corner like they were at a grade school dance. Shiro stood out from the other dancers, uniform stiff while Elosian dresses were gauzy, body tense while the Elosians flowed. Lance saw the moment Allura snapped and took the lead, pulling Shiro along into a stumbling dance similar to a waltz. Lance snorted. He could actually see Shiro’s cheeks light up with embarrassment.

“Drink?”

Lance looked up. Keith was holding out two gold chalices filled with amber liquid. “Thanks,” Lance said, taking one. He turned back to the dancers. “They're pretty amazing, huh?”

Keith leaned against the balcony beside Lance, lifting the chalice to eye level. “A little gaudy, if you ask me.”

Lance frowned. Now that Keith mentioned it, there was an awful lot of gold.

“You can dance, you know,” Keith said. He’d lifted the chalice up to his lips, but looked more like he was hiding behind the cup versus actually drinking. “I mean, just because we went on a date doesn't mean you can't be out there, too.”

Lance shifted so that he was resting one elbow on the railing, propping his head up with one hand. Keith was studiously not looking at him, but there was a faint blush staining his cheeks, matching the burgundy cloak draped across his shoulders. It was—it was cute.

“You're right,” Lance said, pushing away from the balcony and setting his chalice down on a nearby table. Keith glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and Lance grinned brightly at him, holding out his hand. Warm golden light danced across his palm.

Keith’s face flooded with red and he jolted back, his eyes going wide, stunned.

“Want to dance?” Lance asked.

* * *

**Log #35: no subject**

BOOOOOIII I SEE YOU DANCIN WITH YOUR BOOOOIII

* * *

“Here,” Lance said, adjusting one of Keith’s hands onto his shoulder and grabbing his other hand, taking the lead. He pushed and pulled, forcing Keith into an easy two-step, watching their feet. When he was sure Keith got the hang of it, he looked back up at Keith’s face.

Keith was still _so red_ , scowling down at their feet with intense concentration.

Lance couldn't help it. He burst out laughing, making Keith stumble. “Oh man, your face!”

“S-shut up!” Keith yelped, jerking back.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Lance said, pulling Keith close again. He patted Keith’s back comfortingly. The dude was _tense_. “Come on, I was kidding. This can be our second date.”

“How are you _doing_ this? You’re a—you’re a good dancer,” Keith said, sounding a mix of desperate and shocked.

“Even when you give a good compliment, it still sounds bad.” Lance rolled his eyes and twirled Keith out. He stumbled slightly, but regained his footing quickly. Lance tsked. He'd sort of hoped Keith would be terrible at dancing, but the guy was good on his feet. “For your information, I am an excellent dancer. My little sister, Mia—she was afraid to ballet class on her own when she was a kid.” He laughed a little, remembering Mia’s snotty face and the fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. She hadn't let go of his leg when he tried to drop her off at the studio. His smile faded slightly. God, he missed his family. “So I went with her. I was at least five years older than the other kids in the class and the only boy, but.” He shrugged.

“But you were good at it,” Keith said. When he wasn't concentrating, he actually relaxed a little, losing some of that stick up his ass.

Lance stepped it up, matching the pace of the graceful Elosians, and grinned wickedly. Keith shot a glare at him when he tripped, but it only took him a moment to regain his footing. Of course he was a natural at this, too. Stupid prodigies.

“Mrs. Pérez was nice enough to let me stay until Mia felt comfortable on her own,” Lance continued. “Then she bumped me up to a more age-appropriate class.”

Keith clumsily tried twirling Lance out and Lance went with it, gliding through the spin with ease. When he settled back into Keith’s arms, he was amused to see that Keith was both irritated and impressed.

“I stopped going in secondary school, though. Wasn't ‘cool’ enough.”

“I don't know,” Keith said. He had to tilt his head slightly to look up at Lance. “That was pretty cool of you, joining a dance class for your sister.”

Lance snorted. “Tell that to a bunch of fourteen-year-olds. Kids can be vicious.”

“Still,” Keith said, adamantly. “You’re a good brother.”

“Thanks,” Lance said, crooking a smile at him. It was—bittersweet, talking about his family. He was doing all this for them, but he _missed_ them. All he had left of his family was a phone full of photos, one he didn't dare to turn on in case the battery died. “What about you?” he asked, wanting to change the subject. “Did you take any classes? I mean, clearly you weren't in any dance class—”

Keith stepped on his foot, totally on purpose. Lance laughed and pinched his side lightly.

“I took a Taekwondo class for a month,” Keith said. “But then I-I moved to a different foster home and had to drop out.”

“Oh,” Lance said, eyes widening. He hadn't known. “That’s shit, man.”

For some reason—probably because he was totally weird—this made Keith grin. “Exactly.”

Lance fell silent. He’d grabbed Keith into a dance to make him feel uncomfortable. Instead, he felt more comfortable around Keith in this one dance than the entire time they’d known each other. It felt—natural.

Keith was so prickly that his stupid mullet was probably made out of thorns, but here, cradled in Lance’s arms and with gold shimmering across his face, even Lance could admit that there was _something_ about Keith Kogane and— _oh_.

Oh _shit_.

“Hey,” Keith said, irritated when Lance suddenly staggered and accidentally stepped on his foot, but then he caught sight of Lance’s expression. Lance had no idea what he looked like, but it _felt_ like his entire world shifted violently to the left, and the dirty window he had been squinting through all his life was suddenly clear, and there was Keith.

Keith reached up, slowly, hand hovering over the side of Lance’s face. “Lance?”

“Keith, I—” Lance started, but he had no idea what he was going to say. He—what, he may have a big gay crush on the guy he was actually dating? What the hell was his _life_?

“Excuse me,” one of the Elosians said, appearing at Keith’s side. Both Keith and Lance jerked with surprise. “I couldn't help but to notice how exquisitely you dance. You _must_ let me have one dance with you.”

It took a moment for Lance to realize that the Elosian was talking to _him_. Normally he would revel in someone noticing him over Keith, but. He froze, the “no thanks,” on the tip of his tongue. He had no idea if that would be construed as an insult. What if this Elosian was some high ranking official and rejecting a dance with her was like declaring war or something?

“It’s fine,” Keith said, tearing away from him. It was sort of like ripping away a bandaid before the wound had fully healed. “Go ahead and dance with her.”

Before Lance could protest, Keith was disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

**Log #36: no subject**

Wait. Wait a minute. What is happening right now??

...

sERIOUSLY? Omg you guys are such idiots.

* * *

The Elosian who asked Lance to dance was named Ia and she was nearly a head taller than Lance, but Lance adjusted to the height difference with ease, letting her lead. It was easy enough to pick up the steps to the Elosian dance, which gave Lance plenty of opportunity to search for a familiar black mullet over Ia’s gauzy shoulder.

“Ah, I was right. You are magnificent at dancing. My friends will be so jealous,” Ia said. Her voice was high and sweet, like a wind instrument. Lance really should be falling all over himself at the chance to wrap his arms around such a beautiful woman, but—but apparently he was a major idiot. “Your friend must have been so angry to have you stolen away.”

Lance’s attention snapped back to her. “Yeah right,” he scoffed. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? Here was this beautiful woman _actually_ paying attention to him, and he was ignoring her for a jackass who only wanted to date him for _Voltron_. He was such a dumbass.

“I believe so as well,” Ia said, misinterpreting his double positive.

“No, I mean, it's not likely,” Lance said. They broke away from each other, one hand still clasped together, and glided forward a couple of steps. When they came back together, he said, “I don't think he even likes me very much.”

Ia trilled with laughter. “That's not what it looked like to me.”

“R-really?” Lance said, a small burst of nervous bubbles in his chest. He shook his head. “Noo. Nope.”

“Well, you know him best,” Ia said, with a small shrug.

“I do,” Lance said with a nod. “And he is a giant space pri—uh, jerk.”

Ia spun out, then spun back into his arms, much closer now. Lance had to crane his head back to look her in the eye. He blushed at their sudden proximity. “If that's the case, does that mean you're available?” Ia asked.

“Uh—” Lance stuttered, heart rocketing in his chest.

The palace trembled, then rocked violently. For one crazy moment, Lance thought maybe Keith had lost it and bust out Red to murder Lance, but then a section of the high, sloping ceiling exploded inward. The Elosians keened with fear and darted away as chunks of gold crashed to the glossy floor. Lance tugged Ia behind him, instinctively grabbing his bayard from his belt.

“You okay?” Lance asked, sparing a glance over his shoulder. Ia had both her trembling hands clasped to her chest. She nodded. “Good. Go with the others.”

Ia nodded again, then lurched forward and smacked a surprisingly clumsy kiss against Lance’s cheek. “Good luck, paladin!” she tittered, and then darted away.

Lance gaped after her, touching his cheek. Then his entire body tensed as he felt a dangerous presence creep up behind him.

“Enjoy your dance?” Keith asked, deceptively mild, his bayard already out. For all that he sounded calm, his eyes were _murder_.

“K-Keith,” Lance said, feeling totally guilty for _no good reason_. He shook himself off, then scowled. “Hey man, you _told_ me to dance with her.”

“I didn't tell you to kiss her!”

“I didn't kiss her! She kissed me!”

Before the freakin’ grade school bickering could escalate into a slap fight, the palace rocked again, and they leaped back as more of the ceiling crashed to the ground.

“Let’s go,” Keith said, grabbing Lance’s wrist just a shade too tightly. They sprinted into the cloud of glittering dust, toward the golden debris.

“Keith!” Shiro darted out of the cloud, grabbing both of Keith’s shoulders. “Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Keith assured. “Where are Pidge and Hunk?”

“We’re here,” Pidge called, clambering over one of the large gold chunks of ceiling, Hunk scrambling after her.

Outside, there was an unearthly screech and something huge landed on the roof, rattling the palace walls. There was a deep gush of breath, like something massive was scenting the air, and then one large yellow eye peered through the hole in the ceiling.

“Oh, come on,” Lance groaned, as the Galran monster screeched in murderous delight.


	4. Chapter 4

So the monster was this huge fuck-off bird creature that looked a bit like some gryphon beast, but with a tail like an electric whip and a long range energy beam attack, holy shit.

And of course Keith was a _goddamn brash asshole_ who never listened to _reason_ and always dove headfirst into danger even when there was a more logical solution screaming in his face, like say, _forming Voltron_.

He didn't realize he was shouting this until Hunk cut through his rant with a sharp, “Lance! Don’t worry, he’s alright.”

“I'm not worried, you're worried!”

“Oh I'm worried alright, buddy.”

But it was clear Keith was struggling. Red just barely managed to twist out of the way as the monster’s deadly whip cut through the air, trailing white sparks of electricity.

“It’s no use,” Shiro said. “We need to form Voltron. Keith, get over here!”

“On it!” Keith shouted back, but the gryphon’s tail lashed out, and Red leaped back just as the whip crashed into the ground.

Lance hovered over the gryphon, not knowing what to do. If he got too close, he had the whip to contend with. Long range attacks meant facing the gryphon’s energy beam, slower, but way more dangerous.

What they needed to was to immobilize the tail. Lance tried an ice beam attack, but the tail lashed out of the icy barrier without issue.

Okay. So.

He was about to do something monumentally stupid.

“I got an idea!” Lance shouted. “A really really bad idea! Like, Keith-level bad!”

“You're not exactly selling it, Lance!” Hunk shouted.

“Back me up, guys!” Lance shouted.

And then Blue pounced on the gryphon’s tail like a cat pouncing on a mouse.

It was a _really_ bad idea. Electricity crackled over Blue’s exterior. Her screens flickered and the sound of his team’s shouts cut in and out. Static hummed through the air and all the hair on Lance’s arms stood on end. And then the electricity was buzzing into him, vibrating his bones and setting his teeth on edge. He gritted his teeth and locked his into Blue’s handles.

Outside, the gryphon shrieked her fury. She swung her head after the others, shooting gold beams at Black and Green, but she was too slow.

“S-sorry, beautiful,” Lance stuttered, trying to keep Blue alive through the sheer force of his own will. “Just—a little longer—”

And, really, he shouldn't have been surprised when it was _Red_ who soared overhead, blade gleaming in her wide mouth. She arced down and into the gryphon, and there was a brilliant explosion of lightning and purple, because of course Keith had to have all the glory, in the end.

* * *

**Log #37: WHAT THE FUUUUUCKK**

i cant believe i thought i liked that stupid blowhard when all he ever does is SHOW OFF and put everyone else in danger bc he cant give up the spotlight for two seconds and yet still manages to get all the glory ANYWAY and oh btw how could i ever be with someone who has a MULLET anyway

i guess his final move was kind of cool but WHATEVER

 

**Log #38: adios elos**

we went back to the palace after the fight and the elosians were super grateful, insisting we stay another day to celebrate. man, the elosians can PARTY, even with a dead monster in their gardens and a huge fucking hole in their palace. at least the elosians can appreciate awesome heroics, unlike certain mullets i know

speaking of

i think he’s avoiding me. he spent the whole party trying to murder ia with his eyes (i told her no when she asked me out again -- although i don't know WHY now) but hasn't even deigned to grace me with a look of his own. i tried to be the bigger person and talk to him when we got back to the castle of lions but he just shoved past me like the melodramatic diva he is and stomped off to the training room

whatever

* * *

“—and did you see the way Blue took that turn?” Lance gushed, cutting his hand through the air as he and Hunk made their way through the castle’s halls towards the rec room. “Like, _wooosh_!”

“Yeah dude, she was amazing!” Hunk said, excited. There was a reason Hunk was Lance’s best friend. 

“Right?”

“Are you okay though?” Hunk asked, his big warm face creasing with concern. “Blue got zapped pretty hard.”

Truthfully, Lance’s skin was still buzzing, making him feel jittery and nervous. But he grinned and threw his arm over Hunk's shoulders and said, “Who, me? A little static electricity can't take out the great Lance McLain!” No need to worry the big lug about something so minor.

Hunk grinned and fist bumped him. “You know it, bro.”

They ended up at the door the same time Keith did and Lance, still riding high from a successful battle, even managed to spare a grin for him, despite Keith’s totally childish silent treatment. But Keith cut his eyes away and his jaw tensed, and Lance’s smile fell with his stomach. What the _fuck_.

Fine. They were still fighting then.

They all had their usual spots in the rec room for their post-battle debriefing. Lance normally dropped into the seat next to Keith’s, usually because they were arguing about some move during the battle. Today, Lance stalked to the opposite side of the room, as far away as possible from Keith.

Hunk, dear sweet Hunk who never needed words to know exactly what Lance needed, pivoted mid-step on his way to his usual chair and dropped onto the cushion beside Lance, bumping their knees together. Lance shot a grateful smile down at his legs and bumped back.

Not that the space mattered, since Keith had apparently decided Lance no longer existed in the same plane as his holy assness did.

Everyone but Shiro was already sprawled in their usual spots: Pidge, with her computer on her knees, Coran and Allura sitting primly on the center couch. When Shiro finally strolled in, he paused at the entrance, frowning almost petulantly at his usual spot, which was currently occupied by Lance and Hunk. But he said nothing, instead dropping onto the couch next to Keith.

Shiro looked _exhausted_ , even though the battle wasn't even in the top ten worst battles they'd fought. Lance wondered if he was sleeping okay. He knew the guy had some lingering trauma, but he didn't like talking about it. At least, not to Lance. Maybe he talked to Keith or Allura. Lance hoped he wasn't bottling everything up.

The debriefing was quick—Lance really wasn't all that surprised when Shiro didn't even mention Keith’s original reckless—and totally unnecessary—Hail Mary, instead congratulating him for his killing blow. He _did_ also commend Lance for his quick thinking (and Lance totally didn't preen, because he was no longer a ten-year-old desperate for his older brother's attention).

The only time Keith looked up was to glare at Shiro for praising Lance, what the _fuck_. Was he actually jealous that Shiro was paying attention to someone else? Not of Lance but because of him?

The thought left a sour taste on the back of his tongue.

Shiro slid his hand over his face, then through his hair. “It was a rough fight, but Zarkon is still out there. We need to keep moving.”

“ _Or_ ,” Pidge said, holding up one finger. “We can check out that swap moon Coran was talking about.”

“You don't want to go to that swap moon,” Coran said, rubbing his mustache with two fingers. “They’re filthy hubs where pirates take you for everything and then some.”

“Speaking from experience?” Lance teased.

“Yes,” Allura said, grinning conspiratorially at him. Once that would have made his heart flutter, but now he just grinned back.

Shiro drummed his fingers on his knee. “It's a good idea, actually. The first Galran energy we picked up was by the swap moon. We should make sure there aren't any lingering Galra before we take off.”

“Fine, fine. But I would recommend you leave your weapons behind. And you should definitely go in disguise!” Coran said with an unholy glint in his eye.

“We're going to be investigating Galran energies and you don't want us to bring our weapons,” Keith said, drily. Lance shot a look at him, but he pointedly did not meet Lance’s eye.

Lance’s shoulders slumped.

Coran opened his mouth, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I see your point. Alright, but nothing too obvious! The Unilu are a very suspicious race and do _not_ take kindly to potential threats.”

Well, that meant no magical Mario Kart steering wheels. He didn't think shoving his bayard under his shirt would be very inconspicuous. Lance followed the others out the room, hands in his pockets, pointedly not look at Keith as he and Hunk left the room.

“Wait,” Keith shouted, chasing after him. “I need to talk to you.”

Lance had been hoping to wander the swap moon alone, or maybe with Hunk or Pidge so that he vent his spleen. He had, most definitely, not wanted to go with Keith. Hunk shot him a concerned look, but Lance shrugged and smiled, letting Hunk know he was okay.

“Oh, so I exist again?” Lance said, bitterly, but waved his hand before Keith could respond. “Fine. We can talk on the moon. I'll meet you in the shuttle bay.”

Keith looked like he wanted to argue—when did he ever not want to argue—but he swiveled a glance at Hunk and instead said, “Fine,” and then stalked off before either could say anything further.

Hunk watched him stalk away, humming thoughtfully under his breath.

“What?” Lance said.

“Nothing, nothing. I just need to reevaluate some things.”

“Well, you'll get it soon,” Lance said, confidently. “You're the smartest guy I know.”

“Aw, dude,” Hunk said, draping an arm over his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. “Come on. Don't you need to get ready for your date?”

* * *

The “date” wasn't so much of a date as the beginning of the end.

It started out tense, neither of them saying much during the shuttle ride down with the others, but their bickering had picked up as soon as they broke away from the others.

The swap moon wasn't nearly as bad as Coran made it out to be. It reminded Lance of the Antiguos Almacenes San José in Havana, with merchants hanging out of their stalls to shout their wares at Keith and Lance as they stalked by. Too bad for them Lance and Keith were too busy shouting at each other to pay attention to their surroundings.

Lance wondered if Keith was also still buzzing with leftover electricity; Red had been zapped pretty hard, too. Maybe that was why he was being a total prick.

“What the hell was that back there?” Keith demanded, arms folded over his chest like a disapproving teacher. “That was totally reckless, and careless, and irresponsible—”

Lance scoffed loudly, interrupting him. “ _Seriously?_ You, Keith Kogane, are lecturing _me_ for being reckless?”

“You could have been—you could have seriously damaged the blue lion!”

And then Lance was being smacked back into his proper place, like back when he was a kid who wandered out of line, driven constantly forward by his vivid imagination.

It stung. Of course Keith only care about what happened to Blue.

“You can't jeopardize Blue just so that you can be center of attention—”

Lance let out an outraged yell that was more noise than word, needing Keith to _stop talking_. “Are you for real right now?” Lance said, flinging up both his hands. “Yes, it was risky, but it _worked_. Id I hadn't done it, you guys wouldn't have been able to kill the gryphon. We’re a team, that's how teams _work_.”

Keith whirled on him, and it was _so stupid_ , but the way his eyes flashed, more violet than gray, made Lance’s lungs squeeze tight. The little burst of attraction in his chest made him angry, too, and he clung to that with pathetic desperation.

“If we’re a team, then why do you always have to go against everything I say or do? Why are you _constantly_ fighting me?” Keith demanded, getting right up in Lance’s face. Lance gritted his teeth so hard pain radiated through his jaw.

“I went along with your stupid idea, didn't I?” Lance snapped.

“ _Went_ along with it?” Keith choked out, furious. “Is this how you're going to break up with me? Is it because you want to hook up with that gold homewrecker?”

“What? No! What are you even talking about!” Lance threw both his hands to the air. He dropped them again, slowly, his chest twisting when a thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute, are _you_ looking for an out?” Maybe—maybe Keith had decided not even Voltron was worth—Lance.

“Don't be an idiot,” Keith snapped. “ _You're_ the one kissing other people.”

The knot loosened slightly, but Lance scowled at him. “This again? Why are you even so pissed about that? _You’re_ the one who only asked me out in order to protect Voltron from my wandering dick when I actually think I li—” He cut himself off with a small, stuttering breath and rocketed back a step. Oh what the fuck.

Any hope that Keith might be too distracted by his own anger to notice Lance’s slip up vanished when he zeroed in on Lance with laser-precision.

“What,” Keith said.

“What,” Lance said.

“Did you just—”

“Nope, I'm out,” Lance said, backing up several steps.

“Lance, don't you dare—” Keith snarled, bristling up like a furious cat and stalking after him, one hand coming up as if he was going to grab Lance.

Lance whirled around and dove into the crowd, running away like the big stupid coward he was.

* * *

Crap, crap, _crap_. Why did he have to open his big mouth? Keith had made it abundantly clear that—despite his stupid plan to date Lance for Voltron—he actually couldn’t stand Lance, and Lance just had to ruin everything by vomiting his _feelings_ all over Keith’s feet.

He slowed his manic sprint once Keith’s voice faded in the distance, then yanked his hoodie up and shoved his hands in his pockets.

This was the absolute pits. What was he even doing? Maybe it was time to end this farce of a relationship before someone got hurt.

More.

“Aw, man,” Lance groaned, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. Of all the stupid ideas Keith had, Lance had to go along with the stupidest. How on Earth had Keith managed to talk him into this when his pick up line had basically been, ‘Stop endangering Voltron and get on this dick’? And how did Lance _think_ this was going to end? It wasn't like he and Keith were going to get—space-married and have a bunch of space-babies and—and— _god_ , his chest hurt.

Who was he kidding? He would never be good enough to be Keith’s space-husband.

“Hey! You!”

Lance stopped, which was his first major mistake. Cold water trickled down his spine. A Galran soldier the size of a small house was prowling towards him, ears pricked forward like a curious cat, a blade the length of his arm held loosely in one hand. The stalls that had so recently been full of chattering aliens trying to force their wares onto people had gone silent and empty.

_Shit._

“I know you,” the Galran said, leaning down so that they were nearly nose to nose.

“N-no, you must be thinking of someone else,” Lance said, backing up. “I just have one of those faces, you know?”

“No, I definitely recognize you,” the Galran said, yellow eyes squinting. Lance swallowed. His back bumped up against something similar to a mechanic’s stall. “You're—human.”

“Nope,” Lance said. He darted a glance at the stall. There was the scattered remains of a robot, a dirty towel, and something like a huge Allen wrench. He swiveled his eyes back to the Galran and kept up the stream of ridiculous nonsense, creeping one hand up to the stall. “I'm a mermaid. I just, you know, have on my land-legs for the day and—”

The Galran’s eyes widened. “ _Paladin_.”

Lance snatched up the Allen wrench and swung it down just as the Galran sliced his blade up. It was a onetime trick since Lance was no swordsman and the force of the blow sent the Allen wrench flying, but it gave Lance enough time to duck under the Galran’s huge arm. He scrambled away on his hands and feet as the Galran lunged after him, hauling down his sword like a freakin’ hammer. Lance dove to the side, limbs flailing, and the blade cut through his jacket, nicking his arm where it would have sliced it off if he hadn't dodged.

“Why do you keep scurrying around like a little skard?” the Galran asked, mouth twisting into a cruel grin. “It will hurt less if you just stop fighting and die.”

“Fuck you,” Lance said, then snatched the Allen wrench off the ground and slashed it up through the air, between the Galran’s legs.

It was a dirty, dirty move and had like, a five percent chance of actually working on alien anatomy, but the Galran dropped his sword and doubled over, clutching his groin. Lance let go of the Allen wrench and lunged forward to grab the hilt of the sword with both his hands.

That was his second major mistake. He should have stuck with the Allen wrench. As previously noted, Lance was no swordsman. The sword was _heavy_ , too. He managed to swing it at the Galran twice, before the Galran just punched him in the chest. Lance collapsed to his knees, the breath caught in his lungs.

The Galran kicked him and Lance flew several metres before skidding hard on his back. He groaned and tried to turn on his side—the air still wasn't coming out properly from his lungs—but the Galran strolled up to his side, placing one black boot on the arm still holding the sword.

He grinned down at Lance and said, “Zarkon will be pleased,” and then, because he was a monumental _asshole_ , lifted his foot, and stomped down.


End file.
